


No Matter How They Toss the Dice

by ivanolix



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon - Book, Canon - TV, Canon Compliant, Canon Het Relationship, Developing Relationship, F/M, Het, Married Sex, Miscarriage, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, Patriarchy, Porn With Plot, Sexual Content, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:05:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their marriage isn't happy, but Catelyn is determined to make it solid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Matter How They Toss the Dice

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be fluffy PWP. Then came 5000 words of plot and gritty realism, so...character and relationship development through not-always-porny sex. Is that a genre? Thanks to confessorlove for beta'ing. **Warnings** : Miscarriage, unpleasant (consensual) sex, internalized patriarchy, tit-fucking, anal sex

The second time Catelyn Tully took to bed with child, there was nothing but blood. Pain crippled her, tearing screams from her throat despite her determination to hold them back. Eddard was there with his hand about hers, or perhaps that was but her mind’s wish. Everywhere was wet and red and the smell made her choke.

It was far too early, and so there was nothing but blood. Catelyn told herself she would not weep for the babe that never had time to _be_. She’d promised Eddard another son after Robb was born red-haired and strong. She’d promised herself the same, after seeing the bastard babe fostered alongside her own. Mother would have been proud of her, Catelyn thought, of how dutiful a wife she’d been. Warming Eddard’s bed, tending to his needs, quickening with child yet again.

Now the Tully curse had struck her, and Catelyn vowed that she would not weep. This Stark man she was bound to was as grim as legend, his northmen even more so, and all looked on her with caution. She was a southern summer girl, and they would not be surprised at all if she shattered under the pressure of cold and solitude. _I am a Tully and a woman, but I am as strong as any of these._ The words tasted hollow, but she swallowed them and clung to their strength.

Eddard wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders like a good husband should, that was one consolation, when Maester Luwin came to speak to her. “The child is lost, but there is no other damage.” Catelyn bit hard on the inside of her mouth to keep from challenging that. “You must rest and drink dandelion tea for at least a fortnight, but you should recover completely.”

Catelyn felt the squeeze of Eddard’s arm around her shoulder, and asked the question that he would not. “And after that? When can I bear my husband another child?”

“My lady...” Eddard and the maester murmured at once, with a lack of bluntness that was unfamiliar.

 _They are being soft with me because I am weak in their eyes. I have lost a child._ Catelyn bit down hard and refused to weep. She would stay strong for it all. She must.

When the maester advised Eddard to sleep elsewhere, and Catelyn lay coddled and weary and alone, she felt the pain envelop her heart like the morning fog. Eyes tightly shut, the stinging wetness at their corners thoroughly ignored, Catelyn wound the sheets between her fingers and squeezed. She was young and fertile, and this was not the end.

-

“Are you certain?” he asked, with that gravity that both drew her in and pushed her away. His fingers, heavy and yet hesitant, cupped her elbow and yet did not pull her closer.

Catelyn smiled her usual smile. “It has been too long since I have shared my husband’s bed.” A lie, but one borne of sweet desperation. The pain and cramps were gone, and the exhaustion as well. That was enough.

She kissed her Eddard and wound her fingers in his dark hair, drinking him in, begging him to stop treating her like a fragile maid. Victory was attained when she felt the warmth pulse under his skin, and he swept her into his arms to carry her to the bed.

For all his gravity, there was passion in Eddard Stark, and his lips on hers made Catelyn’s skin flush like fire, her grasping hands led by want as well as quiet desperation. His war-scarred skin was almost rough against hers, white and soft from milk baths, yet it made her breath hitch.

But she cried out when he entered her, and not in pleasure. He might have stopped then, if she hadn’t clutched him to her, urging him on even as her jaw clenched. It hurt, and she knew it was too soon, yet her stubbornness forced her on. He’d been so long without her that it took no time at all before he spilled himself in her and rested his weight atop her.

The pain was nothing, Catelyn told herself. She had wanted this, and with good reason had thrown caution to the wind. When Eddard rolled off her, she moved close, ignoring the feeling between her thighs for the sake of the intimate moment. Without her husband’s desire and respect, she was nothing. And Catelyn Tully could not allow that.

His hand stroked her shoulder for the briefest of moments, then paused. “My lady?”

Even in candlelight, dark blood on pale thighs was obvious. Catelyn knew what the shock in his voice was before he put words to it, feeling the wet warmth there and knowing it was more than his seed.

“My lady!” Eddard said again, concern and guilt shading his voice. His hands on her were protective, and the moment she’d craved was gone.

 _I am a failure_ , Catelyn could not help but say to herself as they tended to her, as if she was a weakling. She felt more broken by their treatment _I could have lived without his love, but am I to be both unloved and unwanted? Am I to know nothing but dutiful protection?_

Maester Luwin’s advice was firm. Catelyn was to stay abed another month, and Eddard was not allowed in that same bed for another three. There was no reproach in either of them. None but in Catelyn, and it was not the soreness in her sex that made her weep as she slept once again alone.

-

There was no debating with a Tully. Obstinance, Argument, Resourcefulness--those should have been their words. Once her month was up, and Catelyn could rise from her bed without her maids flustering around her like a threatened hive, there was not a warning in the world that could make her balk from Maester Luwin’s office.

“You are not ready,” the maester said stubbornly. “You will bleed, and your womb will not heal.”

“I am no more an innocent than you,” Catelyn retorted. “I know there are ways that I may appease Lord Stark’s needs that will not hurt me. Tell him that he need not stay from my bed.”

Luwin opened his mouth to protest. “But it is safer--”

“My husband has more self-control than you imagine, I am sure. He will not be carried away.” _If only he would_ , Catelyn thought to herself. _Then I might love him--or feel loved._

With a long sigh, the maester finally nodded. “It is your health, Lady Stark, that is at risk...”

More than that. This marriage, that had foundered so dizzily in the very first year, still balanced ever so threateningly. Two strangers, they were, her and Eddard. One Tully and one Stark, no matter the titles she now bore. Robb might be plump and strong and almost a year old, but there was Jon Snow as well. A quiet babe with slate-grey eyes, and Catelyn tasted bitter failure every time she looked at him. Her reputation, her honor, lay with this marriage. And she knew too well what the world would say if she could not bear her husband many children. Catelyn had known enough pity already, courtesy of Jon Snow. She would know no more.

“Tell Lord Stark that he may share my bed. I will please him, and without doing injury to myself. I swear it.” She met the maester’s eyes with her own, and he did not deny her.

-

Catelyn did nothing by halves, and when Ned stripped from his undertunic to join her naked in bed she kissed him before saying a word. His lips tasted of wine, of bread, of northern wind and fire. It was not a taste to stir her, but she didn’t need it to be. She kissed away the caution from him, teasing with the tip of her tongue until she felt him respond.

Boldly, daring him to treat her like a delicate flower now, she met his eyes. Despite all his honor, there was lust swirling there, and it lit up his face until he looked young again. She’d not seen Eddard Stark look his age since before the rebellion, and it almost made her smile. This man she did not love, did not know, and yet here they were and it mattered.

Lips soft and caressing along his neck, Catelyn slid her hand between his legs. Inexperienced she might be, and yet it didn’t dull his desire. She felt him swell and harden in her hand, throbbing in her palm. Her thumb stroked the skin, traveling along the veins, and a groan escaped his lips. The little juts of his groin into her hand, erratic and rough, gave her all the direction she needed.

It was a pity, Catelyn thought, to feel as if she’d fulfilled her purpose. As if this was all she could offer--all her husband desired from her, other than children. But a moment’s thoughtful bitterness was nothing compared to the satisfaction. No matter the reason, she savored the low groan that escaped Eddard’s lips. She was young and learned fast, and stroked his cock with her hand while her lips traversed his chest. Nipping at the skin, at each scar and flexing muscle, she discovered how he moaned when her tongue flicked over a nipple, as sensitive as her own. Time flew, and soon he was gripping her tightly to him, a gasp and a jerk all the voice he gave to his pleasure. She felt his seed pool warmly in her hand, and couldn’t help but smile.

Once he’d softened and caught his breath, he even held her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. It was worth it. The lack of pity was worth it.

-

Winterfell had seemed cold and barren upon Catelyn’s first visit. A greyness touched it, due to more than the stone of its walls. The sun was distant, even at its zenith, and the blue of the sky had more grey to it than gold. Grass was still green, flowers still bright, but when snow first fell Catelyn could not shake the feeling that this was another world.

But if it was foreign, it was still hers now. The only inheritance she would know. Lips set in a line, she sought out all its secrets with Tully fervor. Southern ways would always stay with her, but if she was to be a Northern lady than she would play the part. Garb and looks were the first to learn, and manners and customs soon after.

Then there was her husband, a cipher as difficult as any she’d met. His reserve and focus were intimidating, and sometimes she wondered if he believed in honor just as strongly as he spoke of it. Could he even imagine another option?

It had not seemed so, at first, but Catelyn’s sharp eyes had caught onto hope. He laughed with his whole body when Robb said his first word, clinging to his father’s beard. He even lost all reserve when Catelyn beckoned him to bed, her hands soon practiced in every little tug and stroke that would bring him completely undone.

Soon enough, she viewed him as the key to unlocking the North. Starks had once been kings up here, and Catelyn could almost see it in her Eddard. His own people surely did, and that respect was more than duty’s due. Could she earn his respect, she would at last be set in her place here.

Yet he showed her something that looked like respect already, and still her heart twisted in dissatisfaction. He never feigned desire, of that she was sure, but there was something held back still in their marriage bed. Routine, not excitement, marked their evenings together. It was not what she wanted, and she prayed to her gods that he wanted more as well. Catelyn was not allowed to give him a chance at fathering another child for two more months, so she sought for other ways to spark his interest.

Not since their wedding night had she taken him in her mouth, but she did so again. He'd tasted of warmth, then, of man, but this time everything was more sedate.

And she was too eager--her throat was tight and she gagged.

"Are you--?" he asked, worry in his voice as he pulled back.

A little laugh escaped her before she could help it, after she swallowed the unasked-for reflex. She’d resented and feared his pity, seeing it behind every reserved action. Only now, when he finally released it, the focus of it was...so small.

Even he seemed to realize how minor an accident it had been, and laughed.

"Don't laugh at me," Catelyn protested, frowning at her failure--again--to rouse only passion. But he laughed until she gave his cock a tug with her hand, and this time she relaxed her throat when taking him in. She sucked and flicked her tongue, and he groaned without another laugh.

It was enough to swallow his seed and to rest upon his chest, and feel a moment of warmth in his arms. It was enough to see a light in his eyes the next morning, as they met hers across the breakfast table.

-

If their nights together were a routine, at least they were no longer a dutiful one. Catelyn was losing all hesitation, finding that she enjoying bringing her husband pleasure. A thrill came each time he hardened because of her, and she’d started licking her lips when she saw the darkening of desire in his grey eyes. Every night, he was hers, at her mercy. When his pleasure came, only her name ever escaped his lips, if any name did.

Doubts about Jon’s mother, about Eddard’s feelings towards her, about her place in the North, seemed dimmer when they were both naked in the same bed. If even the severe Lord of Winterfell could relax and enjoy this primal pleasure, then surely Catelyn Tully could as well. Each night she tried to surprise him, and each night he repaid her efforts with a desire that warmed her, and sometimes heated her as well.

Catelyn found herself dreaming of taking him within her again. Sometimes, with her mouth or hands wrapped around him, she had to squeeze her thighs together to quench the desire to have him there, where she was wet and not with blood. She didn’t miss the pain, but the pleasure. They’d had that before, Catelyn could remember...and wondered if it would ever return.

Such desires could not distract from the nights at hand, however.

Firm muscles rippled beneath his skin as he lay back, hands skimming down her wide hips with a gentleness that made her burn for him. Up over her head went her shift, the chill air hitting her breasts--her nipples puckered and she felt him swell against her thigh.

Even though they spoke rarely, Catelyn felt that each night her husband revealed himself to her more clearly. Her Eddard was quiet as a godswood most days, cool as the North he ruled. Brandon, fiery youth that he'd been, did not rule her thoughts these days. Still, she felt the lack of fire at times. When Eddard had her in his bed, however, her body naked and aroused, Catelyn felt as if a fire had been stoked. He burned brightly, caressing and possessing in turn, and she let it consume her. Heat throbbed through him already, as she slipped free of his grip and moved down, ignoring her own body’s desires.

His hand gripped her shoulder before she could even moisten her lips. Tight and then gentle, holding her on hands and knees. The length of him bobbed up against her hanging breasts, soft skin over hard manhood. "No," he murmured huskily. "Stay a moment."

Confused but obedient, she held still. Beneath her hands, his hipbones rocked up. The tip of his cock slid between her breasts, not as full as when Robb had still been suckling, but still round and enough to fill his hands.

Eddard groaned, and didn't tell her to continue. She'd taken him into her mouth so many times, felt him throb against the back of her throat and heard the urgency in his voice. This was not impatience. Ragged breathing, his breathing now, was clear as a whispered "more" in the dark.

Catelyn's tongue flicked over her lips, watching him, and impulsively she arched her back. Hands cupping her breasts, she wrapped him in their soft warmth. The noise of lust made her smile, just a moment. This fire was new, but she'd feed it all the same. He’d surprised _her_ this time, and she was more than willing to share.

The tip of his cock disappeared between her breasts, only to appear again, red and damp, as he thrust up again. Her breasts molded around him, and she began matching his movements, stroking him with her breasts.

Embarrassment and awkwardness were for wedding nights, apparently. No flush but that of arousal colored Catelyn’s cheeks, and she reveled in the wanton feeling. Her nipples tightened, and she longed to feel his mouth on them, but swallowed her desires and merely watched his face. There was a kind of beauty there, quiet though it was.

Shamelessly, he pumped his cock between her breasts, and this was no lordly lovemaking and yet it was more real than Catelyn had ever known before. She was aching pleasantly by the time he spilled his seed, with a gravelly exhale that made her smile with a kind of smugness.

Then, when she moved up to share the moment of intimacy, he kissed her with such a warmth that she gasped into his mouth. Her fingers locked in his hair, holding him to her, demanding something she didn’t know how to name. Eddard’s mouth trailed down her neck and found her breasts, kissing and suckling, and at that Catelyn couldn’t hold back a moan. She shuddered, wanting more, and yet when he held back his fire and merely nestled his face against her chest, that was a kind of satisfaction all its own.

She stroked his hair, and enjoyed the feel of his beard against her breasts. _I love him_ , she realized in the dark, _in my own way_. If it would ever be the time for such words, however, it was not now. And Catelyn wondered once again if she would ever gain more than desire from her husband.

-

“When can I give him another child?” Catelyn demanded of the maester once the three months were almost up.

“I would not advise it for another year,” he responded testily. “Lady Stark, if you lose another one it will not be a good sign, not at all. Even if the rest of you is healed, it is likely that your womb is not.”

Frustrated, she pursed her lips together. She might show her husband--her Ned--all the love possible in their chambers. But a wife must provide children. There was no other option for her, if she was to become Catelyn Stark in truth. Ned might not tell her so, but that did not mean he never thought it. She could imagine Maester Luwin calling her paranoid for such worries, but it didn’t help.

“He told you everything, I suppose,” she said when Ned joined her by the fire. Darkness had fallen and Robb was abed, leaving only them.

Ned smiled at her, barely. “You are impatient. Do you value your life so little?”

It was just the sort of thing he would say. So full of honor... Catelyn twitched. “Not that, Ned. Is it so wrong to want you without reservation? Without you holding back?”

He kissed her softly. “No, my lady, not wrong. You may want whatever you wish.”

Catelyn turned, her eyes meeting his to challenge his vagueness, her voice low. “You are my husband. I want to feel you in me, and not only so that you may pull back at the very end.”

If her words stirred his desires, though, he hid it behind a slight frown. “I will not risk you, Catelyn.”

It was sweet enough, to hear those words. Leaving behind her annoyance for the moment, sighing, Catelyn slid her arms around him and kissed him. “Then don’t. But make love to me anyway, Ned, and make me forget impossible wants.”

He obeyed, and she was left in no doubt of his wants when he took her, breathing hard as he fucked. Her legs gripped his waist, eyes rolled back in pleasure to feel him once again filling her, all pleasure and no pain. It was swift and earthy, and he didn’t come inside her, but once he’d reached his pleasure he used his fingers to bring her to climax.

There was always something to keep her from losing hope. This time it was the relaxation of release, and Ned’s smile as he pulled her into his arms.

-

Since a child was still denied them, Catelyn made every other demand in the bed that she could. Ned might consider it the other way around, eyes afire as he pushed her against the wall or pulled her to his lap in the bath, but since Catelyn always teased him to that impulsive point...she considered each victory her own.

It was a strange way to get to know her husband, with panting breaths and flushed skin. Ned seemed to forget the world once he had his hands on her breasts, his mouth on hers, his cock inside her. That, Catelyn had discovered, was what she wanted. Ned cared too much for the world, and she wanted his thoughts on her. It was a start, and if there was a better path to love she hadn’t found it.

To be true, they talked afterwards, husband to wife and lord to lady. But in the moment they were man and woman, and it was simply about _fucking_. It was something no one but they would ever know about each other. That, more than anything, made Catelyn feel joined to him.

Yet if a strong marriage was her ultimate goal, she was greedy for the simpler things as well.

“Tell me of this,” she said to Maester Luwin one day, placing an open book on the table.

The good maester choked on his morning ale, unsurprisingly. “Where did you find this, Lady Stark?”

A good deal less embarrassed than the learned man, Catelyn let her own gaze fall back to the book. The ancient manual for husband and wives had been most carefully illustrated, and with no sense of decency either. That made it a rare and valuable find. “The Winterfell library. Now answer my question, please...”

“This is not--” Luwin flustered, as his eyes focused on the exact picture Catelyn had laid before him. “My lady, this sort of deed is not practiced by the nobility. It is for the smallfolk--for whorehouses--it’s not _decent_.”

Catelyn did not even blink. “It is sodomy, is it not? If so, then by definition, yes.”

Luwin gave her a harsh stare. “Why do you ask? You cannot be suggesting that Lord Stark asked this of you.”

The very idea made Catelyn want to laugh, but at the same time the maester’s horror perturbed her. “And if he did? What husband and wife share in the marriage bed is not your decision. But no, I would rather suggest it to Ned than the other way around. I simply wanted to know if it does, as I guess, prevent the conception of a child.”

With a long sigh, Maester Luwin closed the book and rubbed at his eyes. “Your pleasant manners around others hide your blunt nature, Lady Stark.”

Catelyn smiled. “There is little enjoyment to be found in the marriage bed if one is not somewhat blunt, maester.”

He grimaced slightly. “Very well, then. Ask your questions.”

So she did, and if the answers made her squirm just a little, that only made the maester more open with his lurid knowledge. Catelyn’s curiosity would get her into trouble one day, he informed her once she’d exhausted her questions. No doubt, she had assured him. What she didn’t say--what he didn’t need to know--was that the Stark words were starting to sink into her. Winter was coming. She would take advantage of what she could until then, and not bother with hesitation or modesty. Ned liked her better without both; that much she’d discovered at the very least.

Still, he stared at her without words when she suggested the idea.

“Do you not find the idea appealing?” Catelyn was learning to speak in Ned’s silences rather than let them hang awkwardly.

“I don’t understand, my lady,” he replied, mouth twisting in a frown. “Why do you ask?”

His answer that was yet no answer at all frustrated her, but failed to surprise her. She closed the distance between them and rested a hand on his chest. “Ned...I remember the night we made Robb. I remember how it felt to share every moment. There was no need for me to take you in my mouth at the end. Do you think less of me for wanting something that will let me feel that closeness again?” Perhaps she cheated, using that soft voice that appeared more often in the bedroom than anywhere else.

Ned let out a groan and slipped his arms around her. “Gods, Cat, do you expect me to rebuke you for wanting me?”

Already there was a hint of husk in his voice. Catelyn smiled and held him tightly.

“This is still...different,” he cautioned however. His eyes, so very grey, met hers without hesitation. “I will not demand it of you. You have me already, you have nothing to prove one way or another.”

That gave her pause for a moment, and she swallowed. All this time she'd tried to discover who he was, considering him the mystery. Could he, too, be attempting the same? His words hit close to home, sure enough, and Catelyn let them sit for a moment in the air. Stubbornly, though, she shook her head. “Do I look like I’m merely trying to win you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Have I not shown you that I want you regardless?”

He laughed softly, and kissed her with a hint of heat, frown departed. “Point taken, my Catelyn.”

She returned the kiss as her hands reached to tangle in his hair, and her heart started to flutter with excitement instead of unease. Their marriage might still be unsettled elsewhere, but here it was firm. The marriage bed was theirs, and none could say otherwise.

“There’s a vial of oil on the table,” Catelyn gasped out between kisses as Ned carried her to their room. He nodded, and she nipped at his lip until he groaned.

His hands slid under her clothes as quick as they could, once the door was closed, paying only the slightest respect to the integrity of her clasps and laces. She arched, tugged at his trousers, and wondered how he managed to be so quick without ripping anything. If she’d learned what pleased him, he’d done the same; his hands slid over her skin with dexterous familiarity. Catelyn moaned as he released one of her breasts from her dress, thumb pressing against her nipple. “Ned,” she begged, giving him a little push towards the bed.

The light in his eyes only brightened at that, and he kissed her again with a passion that melted straight to her bones, not fighting her urgency. While his hands were busy on her skin, hers were making short work of his clothes, dropping each piece to the floor so that he was naked by the time his knees hit the bed.

Catelyn’s dress fell to her ankles, and she abandoned it to wrap a leg around him. His back hit the bedspread when she pushed forward and a little laugh escaped him. She could feel his half-hard cock between her legs, and the hint of a grin caught her lips before she leaned down and kissed him again. Ned’s mouth was always sweet to her now, a little rough but in a way that felt good. Catelyn rarely wanted tenderness, and he’d apparently learned that too.

There was an awkward moment when they finally broke the kiss, and no one made a move. Ned’s hand was on her breast, the other in her hair, but for a moment everything was still.

Determined, Catelyn whispered in his ear. “The oil’s on the table...”

“You’re certain?” he asked.

She snorted, and pulled him over with her, lying for a moment beneath him before giving his chest a push. “Go on.”

Ned didn’t back down, once committed, but she could see the unsure way in which he crossed the room to retrieve the small vial. It might not be enough to keep his cock from growing hard, but it was there. Catelyn sat up on her elbows and bit the inside of her lip, having a sudden flash of hesitation.

“Cat,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed by her hip, a furrow starting to reappear between his brows.

That--her name in his voice, and that damnable hesitance, made her choice for her. “Ned, I want you. Take me.” With her eyes firmly meeting his, she knew of no way to make her desires clearer.

A hint of an amused smirk crossed his lips, and then he leaned in to kiss her, slowly, savoring her lips. Catelyn lay back and returned the kiss, fingers stroking through his hair. When his lips left hers to traverse down her neck, she arched up and let out a puff of air, then made a soft noise of surprise to feel his fingers between her legs. They were slick with oil, and slid easily down past her sex, making her regret for a moment that he wouldn’t be _there_ when he entered her. But she still wanted to share more than a brief joining, and could wait for it. His mouth found her nipple, suckling gently, and coherent thought fled Catelyn completely.

Ned had long large hands, and she made a little gasp as a fingertip pushed at her tightest entrance, firm but not ungentle. Her fingers dug into his scalp, demanding that he continue, endeavoring to relax at the unfamiliar intrusion. It didn't hurt like she thought it would, as he worked a finger and then two into her. There was no pleasure yet either, but the lack of pain was enough to make her breathing heavy, her mind whirling in the new sensations.

For once, Catelyn didn't mind if he held back, taking his time. She rocked her hips slowly up into his hand, letting his fingers sink into her, the oil slick on them even as she felt tight as a maiden. His mouth had stilled over her breast, and she made a wanting sound and arched into him.

Ned found his rhythm at last, and when he worked his tongue and fingers at the same pace, Catelyn felt the throb of pleasure at last. "Oh Ned," she whispered, gripping tightly to him. She was not a wife now, only a woman, and even with her ass stretched by his fingers she felt _good_.

Then he pulled back, catching his breath, a bit of awkwardness again as he slid his fingers from her. She clenched at the absence and swallowed a groan. "Ready?" he asked, leaning over her so his beard tickled at her chin.

Catelyn nodded wordlessly, reaching up to kiss him and then rolling over onto hands and knees, heart pounding and need coiling between her legs. She almost laughed when feeling his hands in her hair, stroking through the mass of auburn curls and arranging them over her bare back. He'd always been fond of her hair, and right now even that was enough to make her aroused. Boldly, she pushed her hips back towards him, and heard the low breathy chuckle from him.

"My Catelyn," he breathed, and she felt it hot against her back, almost as hot as the tip of his oiled cock against her ass. Even in the raw eroticism, there was something about those words that went straight to her heart. Her Ned, wanted now in oh so many ways.

She moaned softly to feel him enter her, slow as he was. Eyes closed, lips parted, hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Ned's hands clasped her hips, and inch by inch she felt him fill her, the stretch enough to just hint at pain. Catelyn breathed hard and accepted him in, a little whimper escaping when she felt his hips hit her buttocks, the unusual fullness making her mouth dry with want.

He was hard, oh so hard, and she could feel the tremble of tension in him as he held the position for a moment. Impatient again, Catelyn couldn't help but push her hips back, and gasp at the feeling. Nothing like she expected, and yet all she wanted was more.

Ned too, had lost all hesitance. Groaning, starting slow as if to remember it, he thrust into her. The intensity of it made Catelyn's breath hitch, her knuckles white as she clung to the sheets, but she breathed not a word of protest. If he had stopped she would have growled like the sigil of his house. He didn't, and his thumbs stroked her hips while he began to fuck her.

Catelyn had never been quiet in bed, but this was something more. Each slide of his cock had her moaning, clenching in want, and every throaty noise from him only made it worse. Even her quiet Ned was grunting, lost in primal pleasure. There was no need for caution now, no rules to be kept. Only passion, and Catelyn arched her neck and let herself drown in it.

Soon he was panting for breath, hips meeting hers with every thrust; he had his face buried in her hair, one hand wound in it as if he was afraid he'd lose her. Catelyn could feel him throb in her, and each answering throb between her legs made her moan, whimper, arch back for more. Finally her fingers slid between her legs, soon slick with her own desire and stroking hard.

Her body shook when release finally claimed her, with his cock still deep in her and his hands on her body. The heat of it made her cry out, pleasure white hot in every nerve, and she almost collapsed to the sheets. Each breath sounded like a groan from him, the jutting of his hips faster and shallower as he grew closer. A pleasant ache spread through Catelyn's body as she waited for the final moment.

When he came in her, their bodies still locked together, sweaty and slick, she moaned again. When he softened and slid from her, dropping beside her on the bed as if exhausted, she could have stared at him for hours, a hazy smile on her face.

Ned finally opened his eyes again, cloudy with his satisfaction, and frowned curiously at her smile. "My lady?"

Catelyn rolled to her side and lay a hand on his chest, whispering, "I love you."

A strange look flitted across his face, but it seemed to soften him, and for the first time he smiled in a way that gave truth to his next words. "And I you, Catelyn."

He wrapped an arm around her, tugging her to him, and she nestled against his chest.

-

For all Catelyn's assurances to Maester Luwin, Ned did get carried away one night, and she missed two moonbloods before realizing what it meant. It was too soon, but the clenching of fear in Catelyn's belly disappeared a moment after it came. Ned loved her, had said it when she could look in his eyes and read not a hint of deception. The gods would not be so cruel as to test that now, she told herself.

She smiled when she told him the news. He seemed stricken, guilty, and nearly crushed her in his embrace. "I will be fine, Ned," she murmured into his shoulder.

"You must be," he said in a grave voice that was not so irritating to her now.

Catelyn stroked his back, and smiled softly.

He was too gentle with her, but he did it from love and so she forgave him. The North was a place of harshness, where strength triumphed over all else, and sometimes it seemed like that was all that mattered. Yet she knew better now. There was emotion beneath that harshness that rivaled it in intensity, the fire to its ice. And if Ned could be cold and reserved as Lord of Winterfell, he could sometimes be all warmth with her and Robb as well.

When her belly swelled broadly, Maester Luwin said that she was safe. Catelyn smiled, unsurprised, and did so again when she woke in the night to find Ned's cheek against her belly. This was how things were to be. The future remained unsure, and unanswered doubts still plagued her, but Catelyn could not deny that she felt finally at home. Ned, her husband, was home.

Sansa was born a few months later, bright red all over and as healthy as could be. Ned's face lit up with relief and awe when he held his daughter in the air and said, "She is strong."

Catelyn, eyes half-closed in weariness, managed a nod.

"Not the only one." Ned glanced back, with a quiet joy that once she would not have noticed.

Almost, Catelyn laughed. She smiled instead, and respect and contentment mingled with love. _Oh Mother, you would be proud of me. You would be proud of us. I know I am._


End file.
